


Super

by thedevilchicken



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Kryptonite, M/M, Polyamory, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 09:27:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17423279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken
Summary: Clark has a problem that he and Bruce need Dick's help to solve.





	Super

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FleetSparrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetSparrow/gifts).



Dick has done some really weird stuff in the course of his life so far. 

He's done stupid stuff and wacky stuff and stuff he really should've known better than to ever do at all, even considering how he spends half his nights jumping off of buildings without the comfort of a safety net. He's done some ill-advised stuff and some seat-of-the-pants stuff and stuff he knew at the time it was ten times too dangerous to do, even for him and the kind of people he knows. But, frankly, he's never done anything quite like this. 

It started three weeks ago. And now it's all coming to an end. 

\---

He was lounging on the couch eating pizza in a rare moment of uninjured down time when Bruce texted him - honest to God texted him like a regular human being and not a caped vigilante with a multi-million-dollar comms system set up in his not-quite-basement among the many mammals of the order _chiroptera_. It was like getting an invite from Bruce and not a summons from the Bat, which he had to admit had been pretty rare over the years. Either way, he knows he would've gone, but sometimes it's just nice to have it seem like a request and not some kind of a command decision. 

When he got to the manor, windswept and interesting from the ride there on his bike, it wasn't Bruce that answered the door. He guessed that might not have been unusual in itself but it wasn't Alfred that answered it, either, and it wasn't even Tim or Cass. _Clark Kent_ answered the door to Wayne Manor, all plaid shirt and glasses and a welcoming smile. That surprised Dick enough that he didn't ask himself why he hadn't just let himself in with his own key instead of knocking, like he'd taken up a career in door-to-door sales. 

"I should've known the texts sounded too nice to be true," Dick joked, and Clark laughed as he closed the door behind them. 

"That was all Bruce, I swear," he replied. He waved one hand toward the library. "He's in there. C'mon through."

Dick's curiosity was piqued so when Clark went through into the library, he followed close behind; what followed that was one of the oddest conversations he's had in his whole life. 

Once the door was closed and they'd all taken a seat, Clark explained what they were all doing there: he had a favor to ask, and frankly it was not just any favor. There was a meteor shower due - a meteor shower had in fact _already happened_ six days before - and in it had been a type of kryptonite that Clark had never seen before. It had increased the strength of all his powers, and made him fill up with so much solar energy that he'd immediately gone to Bruce for help; after testing, it seemed the substance would dissipate on its own, but the feeling was Clark might have some kind of accident in the meantime and in that state, an accident could be a catastrophe on a whole new scale. The solution was to spread the effects to compatible lifeforms instead of burning the Earth to a crispy cinder; it would lower the potential risk, and from there they'd let it dissipate.

"So, how exactly do we do that?" Dick asked, once the situation had been loosely explained. 

Clark shifted in his seat and smiled a fraction too tightly - his face had never been good for poker. Bruce just sighed and shook his head. It wasn't the kind of reaction Dick had expected, but at least he knew to be prepared. What he saw on their faces did not bode well. 

Of course, it turned out sex was the answer. It apparently couldn't just be Clark and Bruce because, it turned out, they'd tried that; it hadn't worked, though somehow it had also worked too well. Bruce had too much supercharged kryptonite in his system already and Clark still hadn't gotten rid of enough, but all the calculations pointed to them only needing to involve one more person in their little game of Kryptonian lab rats. 

"Why not Diana?" Dick asked. "You don't think she'd help?"

Clark winced faintly. "We really don't know how the effects might interact with existing powers," he replied. 

"So it has to be someone who doesn't already have them." 

"That's right." 

"So you're asking _me_?" Dick said, both feeling and sounding halfway to incredulous, and not just because his brain had taken the fact that _they'd tried it_ and painted him a really lurid picture. He was imagining Bruce and Clark together in exactly the way he'd always kind of liked to imagine, back when Wayne Manor had been his home and his suit had involved a collection of flattering short-shorts. 

"Yes," Clark replied. "We're asking you." 

Dick looked at Bruce. Bruce looked at him, and Dick's stomach clenched because now he knew to look for it, he could see there was something not quite right about him. And when he moved his hand from the arm of the chair, it left a crushed-in, splintered handprint in the formerly solid wood. He dusted bits off on the thigh of his slacks as Dick's brows crawled up even higher.

"You're sure this will work?" Dick asked. "And you're sure you've got the right person?"

"Yes," Bruce said, apparently his answer to both questions because he said nothing more. He sounded sure, though. He sounded definite. Knowing Bruce as he did, Dick guessed he couldn't argue with that. 

Clark said it didn't have to be that night, like maybe he'd need time to process what it was he'd just agreed to, but Dick just shrugged and said it might as well be - they were all already there, after all, and no time like the present. Bruce stood and led the way upstairs, carefully, so very carefully, and every now and then it was almost like his feet didn't touch the stairs as he climbed them. Dick wondered what this would do to him. He didn't just mean the powers. 

They went into Bruce's bedroom and Clark closed the door behind them. 

It was morning by the time Dick left. 

\---

Three weeks have passed; the effects have started to fade now, right on schedule, and it's been kind of a wild ride through it. He's spent three weeks punching fists straight through walls, bouncing bullets off his skin and leaping buildings in a single bound, though he hasn't managed flight, at least not quite. Bruce has flown, on the other hand. Dick was there to see it; the landing wasn't graceful, but it was definitely impressive. 

That night was impressive, in its own way - at least it definitely left an impression. Bruce led the way upstairs and Clark closed the door and Dick felt absurdly nervous as he stood there, or maybe that wasn't so absurd considering what it was they were planning to do and exactly why they were planning to do it. 

"Maybe we should go first," Clark said, eyeing Bruce as he accidentally tore his own damn shirt. Dick looked at Bruce's ruined shirt then back at Clark and he nodded, because maybe he wasn't as delicate as Bruce's handmade Italian clothing, but he wasn't too far off the mark. Bruce, for his part, didn't disagree - he just sat down in a chair across the room, still in his ruined shirt, looking a lot like he was trying really hard not to break anything else. 

Clark started to strip and so Dick did, too. He kept darting looks in Clark's direction, only half trying to pretend he wasn't watching, but Clark either didn't mind too much or else he'd developed a pretty great bluff sometime in the past fifteen minutes. Dick narrowed his eyes at him mock-suspiciously. 

"Can't you go about four hundred times faster than that?" he asked, and Clark, in the middle of taking off a sock, gave him a sort of semi-sheepish look. 

"I could," he replied. "But then I'd be naked and waiting for you to finish undressing." 

"Are you telling me you're shy, Clark?"

Clark chuckled. In a whirl of plaid that blew Dick's hair from artistically tousled to just plain tousled, Clark undressed; when he stopped, he was standing there naked, his arms crossed over his chest, brows raised. Dick tossed his shirt aside and kept undressing at a less than superpowered speed. 

"You know, Bruce says he thinks you used to have a crush on me," Clark said then, and the thoroughly good-natured if amused way he said it made Dick smile as he took off his pants. 

"Who says I don't now?" he joked, with an exaggerated wiggle of his brows, and Clark laughed and shook his head. 

"I thought this was going to be hard," Clark said. 

"Oh, I'm pretty sure it will be," Dick replied, glancing down super-obviously at the beginnings of an erection between Clark's thighs, and Clark snorted, almost blushing. "You need some help with that?"

Clark nodded. Dick kicked off his underwear. And maybe he'd just spent thirty seconds flirting but that didn't help when it came down to it because, when it came down to it, it was still Clark. It was Clark who was Superman who he'd agreed to have sex with in order to avert potential catastrophe. When he went over there, when he was face to face with and extremely naked Clark whose cock was suddenly doing a very fine job of coming up all by itself, he was nervous. 

Dick set one hand at one of Clark's bare shoulders and he wrapped his other hand around him. Clark met his gaze, all blue eyes and flushed cheeks and half a smile as Dick started to stroke him, slowly, just a little, just easing back his foreskin and then nipping it back up over the tip, over and over, till Clark was hard against his palm. Then Dick stepped back. He glanced over at Bruce, still sitting in his chair by the curtained window. 

"Lube?" Dick asked, somewhere between embarrassed and defiant, and Bruce jutted his chin in the direction of a drawer by the bed like he was scared to move in case he broke something. So Dick opened the drawer and retrieved the lube and he went back over to where Clark was standing. With a significant quirk of his brows, he pressed the tube into Clark's hands. He figured that said what he wanted it to loud and really, really clear, and Clark nodded. He understood. 

Dick went to the bed. It was so damn huge he could've gotten lost in it and not been seen for three days and he knelt in the middle of it, forearms and knees, feeling like a prize jackass knowing Bruce was right there watching but at the same time he wasn't sure that didn't kind of turn him on. After all, there'd been times when he'd been younger when all he'd wanted was Bruce to look at him like that, and he'd maybe even come up with scenes a little like this one, except then he felt the mattress dip as Clark moved up to join him. 

He felt Clark's fingers part his cheeks. He felt Clark's slick fingertips stroke his hole. He felt Clark pushing there lightly till he got one digit into him and then another, so he pressed his face into a pillow that smelled disconcertingly just like Bruce and he tried not to think about Clark and Bruce doing exactly this, even if it had been to transfer superpowered kryptonite into Bruce's body. There was a scientific explanation for why it had to be sex, apparently, but as much as he would've enjoyed making Bruce explain it to him step by step, it was almost better to be there already, feeling Clark press the tip of his cock up against him, feeling Clark ease forward, feeling Clark make it in past that initial resistance and make him open up around him. 

Clark moved in him. He did it slowly, like he was scared Dick might break and frankly, if Clark had really let loose, he guessed he would've. Clark fucked him, and he tried not to think of Bruce exactly where he was, knees spread with his cock hanging hard heavy. He stole a look to his left and there Bruce was, and God, oh God, he was watching, he was pressing the heel of one hand to the front of his slacks and he was _watching_. Dick turned away and groaned against the pillow and all that seemed to do was make Clark move faster, pushing deeper, making Dick rock on his knees and as his pulse raced. 

Clark came in him. It didn't take long but Dick guessed that hadn't been the point, except when Clark pulled back and left the bed and Dick looked at him, the expression on his face said it was more about the fact he couldn't help it than the fact they had completely scientific reasons for winding up in bed, not any of the sentimental reasons Dick had dreamed up when he was younger. He was fine with that, though, as he slumped down face-first against the pillows, because he could feel something happening. He felt a little different but not very, though when he gave a carved spindle in the huge bed's headboard an experimental squeeze, it was no match for him at all. It cracked. Dick had a feeling Alfred wouldn't be particularly impressed. 

Then he saw Bruce move. Dick understood what had to happen because that was the whole plan; he'd have sex with _both_ of them, and then some kind of balance would be achieved by which hypothetical disaster could be averted. He heard Bruce pull off his clothes, resulting in more tearing than was likely usual. He heard Bruce move onto the bed and saw Clark take a seat in Bruce's vacant chair. He felt Bruce's hands against his thighs, against his hips, his waist. He felt the length of Bruce's cock against the small of his back, then resting against his backside, then the tip went between his cheeks. 

Bruce pushed into him in one long, not-so-smooth, not-so-slow thrust. He pushed into him, deep, squeezing at his hips so hard he could've crushed them if Dick hadn't had a kind of borrowed superpower in him counteracting it - suddenly Dick understood what Bruce had been so damn scared of breaking was _him_ , not the fucking bedroom. Bruce took a shaky breath and he shifted, he rolled his hips, and Dick groaned against the pillows. He bucked his hips and Dick couldn't help but push back to meet him. 

It was over quickly. Bruce had him hard, so hard Dick broke three more spindles in the headboard trying to push back against him, and when Bruce came in him, emptying himself inside him in jerking bursts as he made a low kind of sound deep down from his chest, Dick couldn't help how hopelessly turned on he was. Bruce came in him, and it was the goddamn sexiest thing that had ever happened in his life. So, when Bruce pulled out and disappeared into the bathroom, Dick turned away from Clark and finished himself off. It did not take long, and he told himself he shouldn't feel guilty about the wet spot on Bruce's bedspread.

"I could've helped with that," Clark said, and Dick chuckled underneath his breath as he picked himself up from the bed. 

"It's fine," he said, as he was gathering his clothes. He pulled them on then had to search for one boot, but in the end he found it triumphantly under the end of the bed. "Tell Bruce I said..." He shrugged widely, his boot in one hand. "Tell him I had to go."

Clark nodded almost like he understood. And Dick, once he'd pulled on his wayward boot, left Wayne Manor.

He didn't feel too bad about his sudden disappearance. He figured Bruce still had Clark, after all. 

\---

Three days later, he went back. 

That was the deal: he'd be back every three days till three weeks had passed, and by that point the kryptonite congaing its way through Clark's Kryptonian blood should've worked its way out through the two of them. He let himself in this time, though he found Clark inside waiting on the stairs; Bruce was already upstairs, he said, so they went up to join him there. 

First, he watched Clark fuck Bruce. It was nothing like he'd imagined and somehow better anyway, the way Bruce's muscles strained and shifted, how he let his head drop forward as Clark had him so hard it should've hurt. Dick knew it wouldn't, though - he'd experimented a little with his own newly-acquired powers, though okay he hadn't done it sexually, and while his nerves still knew he'd done something less than ideal to them, he didn't really hurt at all, not the way he'd always known it. 

He watched Clark and Bruce until Clark had come and then he moved over to the bed and Bruce, still breathing hard, shoved himself inside him. Clark was next, refractory period be damned, and then Dick made a speedy exit. Honestly, he just wasn't sure what the hell to say to either of them that didn't have to do with Kryptonian mating habits or daydreams he'd had about the two of them back when he was seventeen. 

Three days after that, he went back again. 

He watched Clark and Bruce. He watched, brows raised, as Bruce went down on his back instead of his knees and Clark had him like that, face to face, one of Bruce's calves caught over Clark's shoulder and his other leg wrapped tight around Clark's waist. Afterwards, Dick just got on top and rode him, trying really hard not to look him in the eye at all except once or twice he failed. Maybe the weirdest part, though, was when he felt the mattress shift and Clark moved in behind him; Clark stroked his cock with one lubed hand till he spilled himself all over Bruce's stomach. He hadn't meant to. He climbed off once Bruce was done just a minute or so later and he pressed his face into the pillows as he waited for Clark to take his turn. It had been meant to be kind of perfunctory, a means to an end, not for pleasure. When he left, once Clark had finished, he could've kicked himself for how he'd not even helped wipe Bruce off. 

The next time, he watched Clark kiss Bruce on the mouth right in the middle of things; he was surprised when Bruce kissed him right back. The next time, he watched Bruce kiss Clark instead. Honestly, he wasn't sure who it was he might be most jealous of, and he's honestly still not sure now. He figures he'd've needed a whole lot more time to figure it out, but he really can't say he regrets the time he did have. 

They met at the manor every third night after that, too, but now it's finished: it's time to let it go, however much he might've enjoyed their meetings. Pretty soon the kryptonite will be out of their systems completely and honestly, Dick won't miss it - he feels like the extra power just kind of makes him reckless, even though he's kept it all mostly under control, even though nobody at all has gotten hurt, not even himself. It's been fun, being super, but it's just not Dick Grayson. 

What he thinks he _will_ miss, though, is the two of them. This has been all his adolescent fantasies come true, and more than that. He almost wishes they'd found someone else instead of him, and he still almost wonders why they didn't. 

There's a knock on his door and he figures it's the pizza; he opens the door with a twenty in his hand but it's most definitely not the pizza guy who's standing there. Bruce is wearing a polo shirt and really well-fitting jeans, like maybe he knows how to be casual and it doesn't kinda look a lot like he's just faking it, and even 'casual' he still looks kinda out of place there at Dick's doorstep. Bruce doesn't visit often, if ever, so maybe that's why. And, unlike the infrequent visits he's had from the Bat, Bruce has never turned up unannounced before. 

"Bruce," Dick says. He knows he sounds confused but he doesn't really give a damn about that, not now. 

"Can I come in?" Bruce replies, and Dick steps aside because he figures it's better than any of the neighbors getting curious and peeking out into the hall.

"Can I?" Clark asks then, like he's appeared out of nowhere, and Dick's brows rise about fifteen storeys. He hadn't expected even one of them, never mind them both.

Dick closes the door and he leans back against it. He looks at them both. They're both looking at him, so they have that in common. 

"Can I do something for you?" he asks. He's still confused and not hiding it, and not just because he's wondering where his damn pizza's gotten to.

Clark smiles faintly. Bruce tucks his hands behind his back and stands up even straighter, like somehow that's even possible. They're like opposites though they're so alike in some ways, too, if you know where to look. They're like night and day, and there's things about them both that Dick loves and hates. 

"We had a conversation earlier," Clark says, with a gesture between himself and Bruce like somehow Dick could've made a different inference and maybe _we_ referred to Clark and Black Canary. "We've realized some things these past few weeks. We're going to give dating a shot." 

Dick nods. He understands, though he guesses he's maybe kind of surprised - Bruce has never really struck him as the serious dating type. Still, he says, "I'm happy for you," and he means it, to a point. 

Then Bruce moves. Bruce steps forward. The way he looks at him, it's like he still has some amount of x-ray vision, and Dick guesses maybe he still does except maybe that's not it. Maybe he just sees straight through him anyway. Bruce did always have strange talents. 

Cautiously, Bruce rests his hands at Dick's shoulders. His thumbs brush Dick's collarbones over the top of his faded t-shirt. His thumbs brush Dick's bare neck, and Dick's pulse surges. Dick's cheeks flush hot. He's been closer to Bruce than this, especially over the last few weeks, but somehow this moment feels more intimate than anything they've done before. 

"We'd be happier with you," Bruce says, and it takes Dick a moment to process that thought. 

Bruce takes a half-step closer. " _I'd_ be happier," he says, blue eyes trained on him except a moment's glance at Clark. "The three of us." And at that point, Dick definitely gets it. 

Dick grins as he slips one hand to the back of Bruce's neck. He's done some really weird stuff in the course of his life, and he genuinely believed the past three weeks had been the pinnacle, but this maybe takes it all just one step higher.

He kisses Bruce; Bruce cups his jaw and kisses back like he's wanted this almost as long as Dick has, too. And maybe it doesn't last too long but that's absolutely fine by Dick - he figures they've got time. 

Dick moves. He gives Bruce a look and then he steps away because Clark's almost within arm's length already. Dick reaches up and takes off Clark's glasses, and Clark just lets him do it. Honestly, even after all this time, he thinks it's weird how that has such an effect. 

"You know, there's a reason I asked for your help," Clark says, as he's rubbing the pad of one thumb just lightly over Dick's lower lip. "I asked Bruce who he trusts. The only name he said was yours."

Dick chuckles, because of course Bruce wouldn't tell him that himself. And when Clark leans in to press his mouth against Dick's forehead, his temple, the line of his jaw, Dick finds he has absolutely no complaints for that. When Clark presses his mouth to Dick's experimental but somehow absurdly sure with it, Dick's happy to lean up into it. He used to think he wanted Batman and Superman. It turns out it's more Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent.

Clark pulls back. "What do you think?" he asks. 

"I think I'd better order more pizza," Dick says as the doorbell rings, and he tosses Clark a smile as he steps away. "It's going to be a _really_ long night."


End file.
